Seven Cardinal Sins
by Dictionary-Dominatrix
Summary: The seven sins, as related to the staff of President Bartlet.


**Greed - Bartlet**

It started out miniscule – _where can I go from here_? It evolved; senator to governor but you weren't satisfied. You cast your eyes out for something higher, and he comes to you. _You're not just the Governor – you're a bigger man than that_, he tells you, and you foolishly believe it. You don't tell him the truth; he's only an old friend but there's nothing wrong with withholding information, because you want this, and you'll have it. You ignore Abbey. You meet the staff – naturally brilliant –and you win; you're there. Second only to God. How much more could you want?

You know you deserved it, but you were so afraid of losing your empire. You still didn't tell anyone; it was a sin of omission (you do believe that, don't you?) clinging about your mind with the tightest grip. It was never about _want_, you say, it was about _need_. You _were_ the best for the country, weren't you?

You question yourself in the oval office, whilst on this historic May night your staff scurry, trying hopelessly to postpone the public downfall that you deserve. You've dirtied the office and it's soiled; now, look where your greed took you.

**Lust – CJ/Donna**

The press secretary is playing with you inside your mind. She fucks you hard and fast; using two, three fingers, always leading. Even after work she's in control. It's only sexual. You haven't calculated how far this goes; you may never know what she thinks when you tremble beneath her touch on your soft blonde hair. There may be softness on her face when you look up shyly and dare to kiss her lips gently, but you can never tell.

Instead, you dream. Sometimes, late at night, or during slow days, you fantasize about initiating, rather than the endless waiting you endure. You watch the briefings occasionally and crazily feel an urge to wait in her office; pin her against the wall when she enters, and make her cry out underneath you; want to kiss roughly and bite lightly. You want to feel desired, needed, lusted after. You hate the feeling that it's convenient for her; you know that she could have anyone she wanted and that scares you.

So you don't stop. When she corners you, and whispers your name, you follow her meekly. Lust is hard to resist, after all, when it tastes so sweet upon her lips.

**Pride – Sam**

Sometimes, things don't always go the way you planned. You've always been a forward planner, from the time you were five years old and packed your first school bag two weeks before you even had the induction day. Planning ahead _works. _

But you didn't plan for the election; it was unexpected, then it suddenly turned catastrophic. Catastrophic is putting it mildly; your career is over. Finished. You thought you had a future in local politics so you left your past in national politics behind. And that was your mistake.

No one thought you'd win. In the first few weeks, there was an air of despondency that clung to you and the campaign; the volunteers resented you. You weren't _that_ guy, just _some_ guy. But things picked up; you had trackers and polls and campaign rallies; the miracle was floating around on the air.

But, remember, pride comes before a fall. And this was one hell of a fall; you couldn't have fallen further from the Monument, it was that high. You failed the President; you failed Toby; you failed Leo.

Maybe that's all you have to be proud of now – your ability to fail the three greatest men you know.

**Envy – Will**

You watch them as they walk the corridor, bypassing your office. CJ is buttoning her coat, her head at a quirky angle as she half-listens to Toby retelling some story; his mouth open in a laugh. You're not in it. Josh follows, smiling, but adding some crass line, so CJ leans backwards, gracefully, and hits the top of his head in the way only women can. Josh takes the hit with little resistance (he probably deserves it), and makes a sarcastic retort – you can tell from the shapes his lips make – and they laugh again.

You can't imagine Sam in that picture, and you wonder if he was invited out to drinks with them.

But of course he was; there's photographic evidence that you've studied within the pages of political magazines. You visualise it; the infamous 'Bartlet Four' going out for drinks, for dinner; everything and anything together. There's a strong hit of jealousy in your chest.

Strange though, but you're not sure why you're jealous. Is it of Sam, for escaping this hellhole, or the old Sam, for being accepted?

You stay at your desk, and open a new document. It's not like you have somewhere better to be.

**Gluttony – Leo**

After being in the political business for _this_ long in _this_ town, you've learnt that sometimes people are pretty damn stupid. Pretty damn idiotic; they say things they shouldn't and do things they really will regret in the morning.

You, better than anyone, should know that.

But you can't help but feel angry, when the inevitable comment relating alcoholism and greed passes by your ears. You hear it one night at a party; sometimes, you see it in magazines and in newspapers that really should know better.

_It's not though_, you say, _It's not greed. _But it's words to deaf ears; seed to the rocky ground.

It's about needing to have that taste; a little taste of something, anything to keep you going from morning to night. It's about making it through; it's about staying alive. It's about more and more and then just a bit more because if you don't, what are you going to do to yourself next time?

You remember Mallory; her ruined childhood. You remember Jenny; a failed marriage and aren't you the one who caused those lines around her eyes? It's not gluttony; it's not about too much. It _was_ about survival; it's now about living.

**Anger – Toby**

You're quick to anger. It's a well known fact; you're Toby Ziegler, the President's personal grouch, and you make sure that _every_ freshman congressman knows it. They don't cross you; you react angrily and you react fast, and the easiest way to get you mad is to threaten your family; your real one or your presidential one, it doesn't matter, because you've sworn to protect both of them.

But sometimes, you wonder about the role you play. It's almost acting; day to day, you play your part. It's free entertainment for the assistants; Ginger laughs behind her hair when you shout (always at other people) and you suspect you're a source of laughter at their weekly meetings with the other assistants.

It's not easy, being so angry. But it's the only way you know how to be. Years of history; a fatherless childhood; a bad beginning. They're all excuses you could give. You were neglected, perhaps, or maybe you feel angry about the idiots in politics and dealing with the Christian Right.

Or, maybe, it's just the way you've always been. Perhaps you just find it easier to give into the anger that threatens to take you over. It's just you. Always angry.

**Sloth - Josh**

It's far easier to control your life when you're awake for most of it; your energy comes from tension. If you could substitute politics for glucose, you know you'd be the first one to get with the program.

You don't eat that often; you sleep even less, in plain hotel rooms from two a.m. to five a.m.. It's not life as you know it – even the White House hours were shorter! You spend your days running around the country, trying to elect a man you think might just be competent enough to lead the country. Only when you begin to sleep, in that empty and tranquil period between life and unconsciousness, do you wonder whether it's the right choice. But then you fall in the sleep of the dead, and nothing matters anymore.

You run through the campaign (and life in general) because when you do slow down, you _have_ to think logically. The problems escalate. Sometimes, it's tempting, just _so tempting, _to descend into self pity and anguish and hide away.

But you can't. Campaign managers don't have fears, they're not afraid for the campaign. They're confident. They just _do. _

There's just no time for sloth on a campaign.


End file.
